A women’s bathroom
The tiles glazed an opalescent white
Polished by orthodontic hands
Cold and smooth, refreshingly clean
Ventilated and fresh, no hint of mildew
The sweet scent of the woman’s bathroom
Untainted by male musk and stank
As if women defecated only rose petals and doves
As we always dreamed they did
The rows of shampoo bottles enhanced, purified, and abundant
And their lady in waiting, conditioner, as plentiful as their liege
You open the frosted speckles pain
Sliding unfettered, as if greased with ambrosia
Into a bathtub covered in razors
